INSOMNIA ... TINGED WITH THE BROKEN EDGES OF WIDOWHOOD

I’d like to blame this afternoon’s burning eyes and punk feeling on widowhood – but that wouldn’t be a truth. The truth is that I have always been an insomniac and counting midnight sheep never helped the sandman find his way to me. Could be the poker hand I drew in the game of life, or it could be the fallout of living in a highly dysfunctional family unit from birth to the day I got married. Doesn’t really matter.

What does matter is that I have not slept a lick for the past 2 days.

The current bout with insomnia is tinged with the broken edges of widowhood though, and this is the crappiest bout of insomnia I have ever had to stagger through. Insomnia and widowhood are both difficult walks of life regardless of your personal and particular reasons to be experiencing either.

To be totally truthful, I do have to admit that I slept for 13 hours STRAIGHT Wednesday evening: went to bed early – 5:30 p.m. – with a ferocious headache and didn’t wake up again until 6:30 a.m … not even a quick potty trip down the hall ;-) I had been feeling punk all week, and I guess the punkiness peaked Wednesday evening. So yesterday I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed; and didn’t sleep a lick all night long :-( This is fairly typical of my DNA, and my husband came to understand that I was, by DNA, a bona fide night-owl who would consistently soar during the twilight and midnight hours for days on end, and then crash heavily for the better part of a day before catching the updraft and making it fairly normally through the rest of the month’s days. It had always been like this for me. And it became our norm throughout our 44 years together. The electric bills could be staggering!

Gotta find a way to curb that natural bent now, and drastically curb the electric usage. One way I have done that recently since he left this earth, and the Social Security Administration cut his benefits by 25%, is to locate the correct box and unpack (Yes! There are still boxes we had not yet gotten around to unpacking since we moved into this place) the little battery operated headlamp he bought for me 12 years ago for nighttime chicken coop checks while letting my wolf out for her nightly romps and duty calls when we were living on our country acreage on Westside Highway; I loved my man for his loving thoughtfulness – he was always thinking of me and ways to make things easier for me. I miss that now. And I use the headlamp for insomnia book readings in bed now. It not only eliminates the need for electricity while reading, but in a way I cannot put into words, the presence of the headlamp is like having a small piece of him in bed with me still; when I turn on that headlamp, I see clearly his twinkling eyes and slow sexy smile. I miss him alongside me in our huge california king-sized bed.

Help me, Yeshua.

Whereas insomnia is not a new thing to me, widowhood is. And I am trying to come to terms with it, as I did with insomnia: but unlike insomnia, widowhood has never been part of my DNA – it was suddenly thrust upon me and I am not sure yet how to deal with it.

Widowhood is worse that dry sandy eyes, worse than a ferocious headache, worse than a sour stomach; it is beyond painful. No words can ever adequately describe the feeling. No workbook or support group actions can explain the meaning behind the word that now describes my life. I have been changed as a person and can’t put a decisive finger on exactly how I have been changed – all I know for sure is that I will never be the same person I was before December 14^th, 2018.

I am still a wife … and yet; not. I still deeply and passionately love a man who no longer walks this earth – but I see him as clearly as the day I married him, as clearly as the days he held our daughter, granddaughter, and grandson so tenderly in his big, gentle hands. I see him as clearly as I did in the months he struggled to stay alive for my sake – and as clearly as the last breath he ever took this side of Heaven: and I was thanking Elohim for my insomnia every one of those endlessly sleepless nights, even though they were hard nights to get through. Sleep did not rob me of those precious moments fleeting too quickly – and yet painfully moving forward so slowly. When those endless nights ended I had been bumped from wife to widow in a heartbeat. It happened so suddenly that I was momentarily startled that I had been bumped: my identity and place in this life forever changed.

There are the obvious pitfalls of grieving … sorrow, rapid mood swings, exhaustion, loss of identity, feelings of uselessness; and so much more that words cannot be put to because they are indescribable. These are the things people talk about most often. These are the things written about in self-help workbooks for the Grief~Share Meets, factors in fallout behavior, the social norm, and the expected. But there is another part of widowhood that the grieving would never expect – we, who are grieving, now live in a glass house of grief.

We are judged for how we grieve.

Regardless of your kind of loss people are going to tell you that you are doing it wrong, you should be doing it differently, and they know the way to properly grieve better than you do. They will fill you with platitudes, useless comments and countless books you are told that you should read to help you find your path forward.

We should not be judged as to how we process our pain – but we will be. People can’t help themselves in their rush to pontificate.

Let me tell you a little of how I deal with my new life status.

When my husband stepped off this planet we were Seniors, though we didn’t think of ourselves as ‘old’ - I was 61 years old & he was 69 years old, and we couldn’t understand why every doctor was treating him and talking to him as if he were an old man; he didn’t even act old or really look old even on his deathbed. When he took his last breath and I came back to the home we had shared, I turned all of my energy to taking care of business on the home-front; the tying up of loose ends to give me hope, and to help me make it through just one more day.

I probably worked harder at it than I should have but it was the only time of the day I felt normal.

It was the only time of the day I was not overwhelmed with the reality of my new reality.

It was my saving grace; and exactly what I needed at that heartbreaking point of my life.

For this behavior, I was judged. By those who claim to love me.

Here’s the kicker: most of the things people commonly judge on I wasn’t doing:

I didn’t stumble through my days on a drunken haze

I didn’t turn to drugs – not even pharmaceutical drugs

I didn’t go out and party hardy – I didn’t go out of the house at all for weeks

I didn’t stop eating – I was well fed with at least 1 healthy meal a day

I kept myself clean – I practiced healthy personal hygiene

I didn’t become an emotionless zombie – I read books and sang songs

I didn’t become careless - my home was safe

I didn’t alter my daily routine – I kept my daily routine as regular as it could be, given all I had experienced at hospitals and the downtown Social Security Office, where the shocks were fairly equal in the emotional shocks given and withstood.

However … here is where I freely admit that I failed in the eyes of others:

I pretty much stopped communication with everyone unless forced to talk with them. I just did not have the energy it took to have contact with family members, loving friends, and business talking heads – at times it was more than I could bare just to get the necessities out of the way.

As much as I could, I removed myself from social situations that I found painful. Candy, I could not and cannot avoid. But I do look for ways to get around contact with her.

I have always had a very small threshold for anyone’s bullshit, and the threshold is shrinking even smaller now. I am a survivor. That survival mode honed early on in my life – even before my life was joined to my husband’s life – led to my own level of thriving. My thriving often looked different than our society would classify as thriving, but for me, I was rocking my life, even if only in survival mode.

For the first time in my entire life, I was faced with being truly alone, and I began to take scary tentative steps to live a solo life, not sure of my footing and a bit scared of making wrong choices that would govern the rest of my earthly life: where we used to make joint decisions on which direction to take, now I am walking our path alone and I have no clear direction as of yet. But one thing I do know … my husband loved living life, and by continuing forward as he would have if he were still among the living here in earth, I honor him; and honoring him honors us. We both trusted Elohei to guide our footsteps, and so I am seeking that same guidance now. I need it more than ever before.

Widows never get over a great loss; we absorb it, and it shapes who we are, and who we become.

I learned early on to do what is right for me on this personal wilderness experience.

I love to talk about my husband - and I find peace in saying his name. That’s my choice inside my glass house; it makes me happy not to feel the need to purge him like he never existed. Rather I’ve decided to keep his memory alive and allow it to shape my beautiful future. A future he will still be very much a part of, though it has been forever altered by his physical absence.

Regardless of how we conduct ourselves … or how we do not conduct ourselves, widows will be judged.

We now live in a glass house. And every passerby feels free to stare and take a long look through our walls, and make piously suggestive comments.

Every move a widow makes will be questioned, examined, and well-aimed nuggets of earnest wisdom will be thoughtlessly thrown at you for your own good. People won’t expect you to be okay – though they will keep asking if you are okay – and they will look for ... and find ... any crack in your composure to say you are not. If you live in survival mode, they say you are in shock and out of touch with reality. If you have a particularly bad day and crumble under the exhaustion of trying to maintain composure while trying to stay upright on shaky ground, they will say you are weak and losing ground.

Is this a fair assessment – NO

Is this the reality of an insensitive society – YES

Widows can expect this behavior from nearly anyone who has never walked our path. Those who have never had their hearts cut in two cannot imagine your unspeakable, traumatic pain; and they don’t understand how you can function in the midst of the constant undulating and searing pain of it.

Any action or comment on your part will be scrutinized and judged. If your bullshit meter reaches its bullshit limit, you will be perceived as an insensitive bitch. If you decide to avoid the bullshit sandpits and sidestep them on safer ground, you will be perceived as an insensitive bitch. Bullshitter’s and those who stand in solidarity with bullshitter’s will always view you as a menace no matter what you do.

However.

While there is nothing you can do about that reality … remember that other people’s perception of you – and about you is not your reality. You don’t have to accept their judgment, and it does not have to make you as inimical as they are. Give those who judge you grace and forgive them for what they can’t possibly, or are unwilling, to understand.

That does not mean you have to accept their behavior – perhaps it would be better for everyone concerned to place a comfortable distance contact to allow you the time you need as you figure out your steps forward. No one else gets to dictate your steps. You get that right. It is, after all, your life.

Judgment is part of human nature and when you accept that often peoples’ own insecurities play a large role in the judgment of others – you make your walls impermeable to their nuggets, even if you can’t stop their stares.

You define you.

You must walk this road alone and in a way and length of time that takes you forward.

There is no rulebook to fit all scenarios. All books are authored by people putting their own agendas forward … write your own chapters that will guide your own life.

There is no right or wrong direction for those who grieve.

There is no correct time frame.

Own your glass house.

Reinforce your walls for the nuggets that will inescapably come your way. Don’t let the opinionated shards shape who you are or who you become.

And, if like me, you too deal with consistent and constant insomnia that is now tinged with the sharp broken edges of widowhood, remember that though you are alone, you are never really alone.

HAVE YOU LEARNED ANYTHING?

Last night I went to my first Group meet thingee – I normally do not do this sort of thing; I am by nature a loner and avoid group settings. I admit that on occasion I do go to fellowship meets, but I am always hanging out in the back pew or at the back table. It is enough for me to be there; I do not feel the need to be the front and center attention.

Anyway. At last night’s Grief~Share meet, there were only 6 in attendance – 4 actually, beside the program organizers, Jim & Cathy: 3 of us have lost spouses, 2 of us in December of 2018, and the other 2 lost a son this year sometime – and a spouse 2 years ago. We visited a bit to get a handle on each other’s backgrounds, and watched a DVD of how some people have dealt and are dealing with their grieving process. We also received a little study/journaling book that is supposed to help also. Some of the situations we went over last night to ponder throughout this week have to do with the effects of grief:

Effects on emotions and body (sometimes it feels like a grieving person starts to fall apart mentally & physically) * Effects on memory and concentration (I remember one time in September 2018, standing at the gas pump and could not remember my debit pin to get the transaction completed: all I could think about was my husband in ER and that I needed to get there fast; my granddaughter got out of the car and helped me finish up at the pump) * Getting “ambushed” by grief (comes out of nowhere and sucker punches you. A certain song, a specific place, a familiar scent, seeing a shared friend ... anything at anytime can trigger an unexpected and uncontrollable fresh wave of grieving all over again) * Adjusting to “secondary losses” (your first loss is the death of your beloved; secondary losses are loss of income, loss of purpose, loss of planned hopes/dreams, loss of identity, loss of extended family relationships, ect.) * Asking for help from others (a hard thing for lobos like me to do, but necessary) * Dealing with a spouse’s possessions (another hard thing to do; what to keep? What to let go? Do it alone? Or with friends? Quick decisions? Or drag it out for years?) * Preserving friendships (How much can you rely on shared friendships? Can you rely on shared friendships? Should you rely on your friends' husbands for help if/when offered ... or will that cause irreparable chasms in shared friendships now that you are "an available woman" again? Is it wiser to make a clean break and start anew with new friends that won't feel threatened and can better understand what you are going through and facing in your unwanted new life? This is a slippery slope that needs careful attention) * Dealing with loneliness (It never gets easier; so MUCH of your life was intertwined with your spouse, and now the tapestry has been torn beyond repair) * Asking God for help (Always! 24/7/365. all day long and through the night) * Rethinking identity and life goals (Now that "we" are currently "me", what can I do to move forward and have a fulfilling life with a gaping hole in it?) * Relying on God’s strength (The ONLY thing that will sustain me and get me safely through this uncertain and unwanted upset in my life) * Facing fears (Taking steps to get out of the house, mingle to a comfortable degree, and accept 'check-up' calls and drop-bys - for your peace of mind, and the peace of mind to those who love you and need to be assured that you are doing 'okay') * How Grief~Share can help (Little by little ... step by step; those who are grieving understand your grieving and you can all help each other with insights and suggestions that perhaps you hadn't considered yet; or didn't know about because you have never been in this situation before)

Thinking on these things, my thoughts were pricked by a question my husband asked me in October 2018. Though he had been in and out of ER and hospital rooms at SJPH, the severity of his situation was beginning to sink in at this time and he turned to me on afternoon in his bed and asked, “Have you learned anything in all this?” At the time, that question didn’t really mean anything to me other than to think, ‘yeah … I am learning that stress kills. And we are going to put that house up for sale and get as far away from those 2 stressors as we can get!’ And I fully intended to do just that – called a realtor and had her on standby to the end in December 2018. Then in November of 2018, when we knew we were facing certain death unless there was divine intervention, my husband looked at me in the ER room at OHSU after the failed procedure to drain the pseudo-cysts, and said, “I don’t think I’ll be going home this time honey; maybe this situation is how God will work in our family.” That was hard to hear … and to face up to. But it was certainly a very distinct possibility, everything taken into consideration.

I honestly always thought I would precede my husband in stepping off this planet; I am 7 years younger, but my health was chancier … or so we thought until our lives took a serious south turn the tail-end of summer 2018. I was born with weak lungs and have a heart arrhythmia, as well as angina that I was diagnosed with more than 3 decades ago: the angina worried our dentist so much that he refused to do oral surgery on me when a cap broke off at the gum-line 10 years ago. So that broken cap is still not fixed – and won’t be. Another risky health issue. But what can one do when the person who can fix it refuses to chance it? Life – people have to roll with the punches thrown.

Perhaps my husband stepped off this planet ahead of me because Elohei knows time for anyone on earth is wrapping up and I have a job to do that no one else can do. And He doesn’t want that job hindered: it needs ALL of my attention. If my husband were still here, my attention would be divided – that is a certainty. So Elohim called him home. And He expects me to get busy getting busy with the job He has for me to do.

Reflecting on those conversations with my husband, and last night’s meet discussions; my thoughts today kept going back to my husband’s October question, “Have you learned anything in all this?”, and took on a whole new meaning; and follow this thread … my aim in ministering the Gospel, and the grace, of Elohei is not in ministry – my aim in ministry is to bring Elohei glory and honor, first and foremost. Above ALL else. And my follow-up aim is to bear much fruit for the glory of Him I gladly and humbly serve (John 15:8). So, if my purpose and goal in this life is to bring glory and honor to the lover of my soul, my redeemer, and my Savior … then I CAN DO THAT in ANY circumstance I find myself in; even while juggling the complex and unwanted grieving process.

I love to garden. I spend my Winter months preparing for my Spring veggie and flower beds. Fruit bearing veggies and trees require certain conditions to be successfully profitable. Fruit-bearing vines and trees will put out fruit in adverse conditions, but they will do much better and put out much fruit in rich and fertile conditions; they rely on organic conditions to bring healthy and purposeful fruit to favorable fruition. The certain conditions required to bring forth favorable fruit are fourfold (1) connection to the root source (John 15:vv. 1, 4-5, & 8). (2) cultivation/pruning (John 15:vv. 2, 6, & 8). (3) cleansed/clearing of debris (John 15:vv. 2, 8-11, & 14). (4) communication/interaction (John 15:8-11 & 14-15).

During a storm, a fruit bearing tree may lose a branch in the aggressiveness of the storm’s brouhaha; and that branch, losing connection to the living source, will just lie there and die, rotting away. It has lost the root source connection. We, as Christians, are the branches – Yeshua is the root source to the life force of Elohei. In this lifetime we will face many storms … some sweep in and swipe at us, and pass by with nary a scratch and perhaps a mild questioning, ‘what was that all about?’ Other storms, suddenly come at us out of nowhere - hit swift and hard, creating mind-numbing damage and leave broken lives in their wake. And we are left hugging our knees to our chests and crying out, ‘Why? WHY?’ But if we have stayed close to Elohim and are rooted in Yeshua’s mercy and grace, the storm did not sever us from the life force connection. We will, over time, spring back up healthy and strong … and bearing much healthy and prosperous fruit: some of the best tasting apples I have ever eaten have come from storm damaged trees. Hallelujah!

In the gardens and orchards, pruning forces life back into old and withered plants and trees; seemingly at turbo-speed. Whether the pruning be light or aggressive, it is necessary for renewed potency and sparkle as the life force rushes to, and focuses on, that pruned area, making it more productive and lovely. Pruning involves cutting, and cutting hurts: plants and people alike. But there is no way to get around those healing and revitalizing wounds if much fruit bearing is the desired end. And the praise belongs to Elohei Who makes a vibrant and productive life for everything possible when the dreaded shears are applied. When it comes to pruning, the old watchword, ‘pain is gain’ is an undeniable truth.

A clearing of debris, be it in our gardens, orchards, or personal lives is a must. Blockage and/or rot must be removed if clean and healthy life is to continue. We clean our flower and veggie beds at the end of each growing season to refresh the soil and remove the rotting rubbish; likewise, we clear the orchards of deadfall and suckers that infringe on and impede the health of the fruit bearing trees. Should we not pay the same careful attention to our personal lives and clean up those areas that need immediate and careful attention to keep us healthy and productive as well? We must if we want the sap of life (aka Rach Ha’Kodesh) to flow freely through our lives so we can bear much fruit of Elohim (Ephesians 5).

Just as we would commune with and pay attention to the organic health of our gardens and orchards – some verbally communicate, some communicate through gentle and ministering touch – so must we also commune with Elohei daily and LISTEN to the Ruach Ha’Kodesh’s wise guidance. Give yourself wholly to Elohim’s Will so you may bear much fruit. Ask for more fruit! We do not need to know His plan for our lives … we just have to stay connected to Him and submit to His hand on/in our lives; understanding that He knows best what is best for our healthy and prosperous growth so necessary to give forth much fruit. Allow his pruning, even if it hurts. Let Him cleanse your life of anything and everything that will stunt your growth or cause root rot. By doing these things, freely and submissively, you will experience the fullness of Elohei’s peace that passes all understanding. Rest and experience His soothing peace in the midst of life’s hardest and most severe storms. Bend, and bring forth much eternal fruit.

A Christian’s life is NOT going to every church function conceivable, or standing on every street corner crying out as John the Baptist did … though those things are not necessarily wrong things … but a Christian’s life is to live well FOR Elohei with the one life He has given us, so that when our life here on earth has come to a close we may step off this planet and hear, “Well done my good and faithful son/daughter.”

Ending this post with an echoing refrain: “Have you learned anything in all this?” I think it is safe to say that perhaps the Ruach Ha’Kodesh was ministering to my soul through my husband’s medical ordeal during those 4 months leading to his physical death December 14^th, 2018. I am glad Elohei found me worthy enough of His attention that He took the time to call my attention to His purpose so I was able to lovingly and unselfishly send my husband home without undue concern for me, who was being left behind for a short while.